


May You Find Your Worth in the Waking World

by BeamKatana



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game), Gravity Falls
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Character Interpretation, Blood and Violence, Character Death In Dream, City of Yharnam, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Dark Fantasy, Dreams and Nightmares, Gen, Guilt, Gun Violence, Illnesses, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lovecraftian Monster(s), Possible Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Quests, Rating May Change, The Mindscape, Transformation, Urban Fantasy, slow start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:52:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeamKatana/pseuds/BeamKatana
Summary: The twins return to Gravity Falls, both acting strangely, afflicted with a mysterious disease that warps both mind and body. Pacifica bargains with what remains of Bill, and is given a way to enter Dipper's dreamscape and stop whatever is slowly killing him. The human consciousness is inherently inhospitable to outsiders, and the realm inside Dipper's mind is no different. Pacifica must brave the terrifying and surreal land of Yharnam if she wants to end this nightmare of blood and beasts.





	1. Prologue: Omen

_Hi Paz!_

_Sorry it's been a while since last time we talked, we just got back from our vacation (ok, you were right, maybe Mom and Dad should have shelled out for the hotel wifi after all!) and things have been super hectic unpacking in time for Dip-Dop and me to have all our school stuff ready for January. That dope picked up some kind of cold in Massachusetts, and he's been sleeping, like, thirty hours a day since we got back, so I have to do double chores, which is totally lame! (Just trust me!)_

_How are things back in Gravity Falls? You still working the register at the Shack? Learning responsibility and the value of a dollar and "the customer is always right” and all that stuff? Trust me, it gets easier when you practice! But not too much easier, so once you pad that resume a little we should totally start shopping around for people to produce some of our designs! THE NORTH-PINES FASHION BARREL! THE PINEWEST PALOOZA! You take care of the technical stuff, and I'll come up with ways to reel some aspiring princesses into our clutches!_

_Anyway, I'll write you again soon, and once Dipper's feeling better he'll probably write you something too. Probably with lots of smooches and stuff! And no, I'm never giving up on that!_

_Love,  
Mabel_

* * *

 

_Hey Paz,_

_Sorry it took me so long to write back, the past month has been really crazy here! Dipper says hi, but he's really not doing so good. Remember when I told you he got a cold? Turns out it's actually some kind of weirdo virus or something. There are some days where he's just totally exhausted and others where he can't sleep at all. A week ago when I came home from school his eyes were so red I thought he'd been smoking Dad's stash! (Don't look surprised, I bet your parents do it too when you're not around!)_  
  
_But other than that, I'm doing ok. School's a little but of drag since Dipper's not around as often as I'd like, but my friends here are good, and talking to you and everyone else back in Gravity Falls keeps me going! Can't wait to hear from you!_

  
_Love,_  
_Mabel_

* * *

 

_Paz,_

_Listen, I'm really sorry it took me so long to get back to you. Things have been bad lately. Dipper's getting worse. There are some days where he can barely get out of bed at all, and he keeps saying he's cold even when he's wrapped up in blankets. The doctors don't seem to know what's wrong with him, or if they're telling our parents, then they're not telling us. I don't know if it's because he can't sleep or what, but he's really hard to deal with sometimes too. (That sounded so mean! I just mean it's really stressful!)_

_Last week we were eating dinner, watching_ Ghost Harassers _, and I noticed he was really quiet. I thought maybe he was asleep, but I looked over to him, and he was staring at me with this look, like I was doing something wrong! I asked him what was eating him, and he flinched like I was gonna hit him and then he got mad and started yelling at me, saying it was my fault! I don't even know what he was talking about. He's been snapping at me and our parents a lot lately, and I know he's really stir-crazy on top of being sick, but that doesn't make it any easier to live with. It's not like we're not all worried about him too. He's been coughing a lot the past couple of days, like he has the flu or something. I've been feeling a little lousy myself, too._

_During the spring break, we're both coming back to Gravity Falls though! Dipper isn't sure if he's healthy enough to do as much exploring as he'd like, but he thinks the fresh air will help him. I don't really know about that, but it's worth a shot, right? I know being around all you guys, and you especially, will cheer us both up!_

_See you soon!_

_Mabel_

* * *

 

The taste of whiskey was acrid in her mouth, its flavor only slightly enhanced by the satisfaction she took in having spirited it away from her father's liquor cabinet. It wouldn't be missed; Preston and Priscilla Northwest kept expensive alcohol around more for its aesthetic value than for any real enjoyment that could be taken in it. Pacifica, on the other hand, was better acquainted with plebeian drinks, dating back to last summer, when her best friend Mabel had dared her brother to take a swig of their Gruncle Stan's favored beer. Dipper had made a face when he swallowed it, but declared it "not all that bad." Naturally, Pacifica and Mabel had had to test that assertion for themselves, and the evening had degenerated over the next few hours. That pleasant summer seemed like much longer than half a year ago.

Mabel's infrequent letters had prepared her for the twins being more subdued, but the girl's optimism had influenced her writing. When the twins had stepped off the bus in Gravity Falls and Pacifica ran to them to sweep them both up in an hug, Dipper had help up a hand quickly as he doubled over, his face buried in the crook of his arm as his thin form was wracked with a coughing fit. Mabel looked like she hadn't slept in days, and had offered a customary huge grin, but warned Pacifica against getting too close to either of them, just in case. Eventually, Dipper's fit passed, and he greeted her as warmly as he seemed able to. His voice had deepened over the years, but the painful croaking quality it had at that moment was heartbreaking. She had tried to make light of it, joking that his singing career was over before it began, but the siblings were unusually somber, the jab drawing only a small smile from Mabel. Pacifica drove them both to the Shack, the conversation revolving around bringing all parties up to speed, avoiding the elephant in the room until Dipper was overtaken by a surge of wheezing coughs that lasted nearly a full minute. She had stopped the car and turned to the twins in the back seat as Mabel held Dipper steady as his body jerked forwards with each cough. Eventually, it passed, and they must have seen the frightened look on her face. Misinterpreting it as a justifiable concern for herself, Dipper had forced a smile and whispered, "Don't worry Paz, it can't be airborne. Mom and Dad aren't showing any symptoms. Mabel and I must have picked it up from someplace we went to in Massachusetts, so you're safe."

She had nodded, and looked to Mabel with the intent to ask if either of them wanted a drink from a convenience store or something, but to her shock she'd seen the Pines sister's face contort into an ugly sneer as she rolled her eyes. "There he goes again, acting like he knows better than the doctors." Dipper whirled on her and opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but as he moved, his eyes went wide and he brought a hand up to his chest in pain. Mabel's expression quickly turned to one of concern as she put her hands on his shoulders to hold him again, rubbing her brother's back as he breathed laboriously and slowly. She chastised her brother to take it easy, and he sank gently into his seat, his eyes closed. Turning to her, Mabel smiled sadly. "Sorry to make you see us like this, Paz. We couldn't sleep too much on the bus, so we were thinking of watching a movie tonight, if you're interested?"

She was, of course. There was no way she was going to just let her friends wallow in that dusty shack without at least making them laugh and remember some good times to boost their spirits. Soos and Melody had welcomed them all with big hugs despite Mabel's cautions, though Pacifica noticed Dipper winced a little at the strength of the older man's embrace. As Melody and Mabel drove to the store to pick up some snacks for their impromptu movie night and Soos bustled in the kitchen cooking up something possibly palatable, Pacifica found herself alone with Dipper in the living room as the last rays of sunlight filtered in through the grimy windows and fell in exhaustion on the dusty carpet. He had smiled at her, the bags under his eyes more noticeable than they'd ever been. "It's...I'm happy to see you, Paz."

"Well, yeah, who wouldn't be?" she said with feigned haughtiness as she sat down next to him on a couch only somewhat less raggedy than the one the Shack's previous owners had. "It's not every day the most beautiful girl on the West Coast drives you around and watches bad movies with you. And don't think you're getting more than your fair share of popcorn just cause you're sick, by the way!" She flashed him a smile, hoping to see his face redden and his eyes light up like they usually did after having been apart for a while. Instead, he sank deeper into the couch and drew a shuddering breath.

"Pacifica, listen," he said softly, his gaze focused on a blank spot on the far wall. "I don't know if telling you this is the right thing to do, but...the truth is, I heard one of the doctors we went to talking to my parents." She felt her heart pick up in pace, but managed to keep still. She could practically feel his leaden words in her gut. "They don't know what it is, but me and Mabel...we're not getting better. And it's not just physical things. There was a day not too long ago when I couldn't remember Wendy's last name. It took me ten minutes just to convince Mabel I wasn't kidding around, and, like, another hour before 'Corduroy' sounded right. And I don't know if Mabel told you in her letters, but it's changed...sometimes I do things without understanding why."

She bit back a joke, overcoming the urge to try and lighten a mood that clearly wasn't lifting anytime soon. "She just said you were acting weird, but you're sick, that's-"

He faced her again, moving faster than she'd seen him move all day, his eyes brimming with a sudden anger. She leaned away from him in sudden fright. "It's not just _weird_ , I nearly-" He seemed to realize in an instant how close he'd gotten so quickly, and scooted away from her a little on the couch, his eyes cast downward as he drew a steady breath. "It's worse than that. I...a couple weeks ago, Mabel said something, I don't even remember what, but it just set me off. I..." He shuddered, and closed his eyes. In the grim silence of the room, she strained to hear him whisper, "I nearly punched her. Like, for real. _My own sister_." She didn't know what to say to that, but she put a hand on his shoulder as she tried to think of diseases that could cause violent episodes. None were comforting thoughts. "I don't know how bad it's going to get. It might get to the point w-where..." His voice caught, and she wrapped her arms around him from behind. Though she couldn't see his face, she could tell from his shudders that he was just barely holding back a flood of tears. "Maybe it's selfish, but I wanted to come here again, to see everyone, and I h-h-hoped I wouldn't screw it up, and let you...I don't know what's going to happen to me, or how long I'll even be-"

"Shut up," she said, her voice muffled as her face was buried in his curly hair. She hoped it could hide the fear in her voice. "You're being stupid, dork. Everything's going to be fine, you're both going to get better, you'll see. I'll...I'll ask my parents. We know specialists. I'll do whatever it takes, just stop talking like you're already dead!" She could feel his heartbeat through her chest, their pulses quickening together. They stayed like that for a second, neither speaking as the quiet in the room was broken by the occasional sniffle.

"Thanks," Dipper said at last, shifting in her arms to face her. He was smiling again, and up close she could see how exhausted he looked. She thought she probably looked pretty lousy too at that moment herself. "It means a lot to me, Paz. I don't think there's anything-"

"There's _always_ something," she interrupted, half for his sake and half because she needed to hear someone say it.

"You know," he said, his voice finally taking on the playful tone she'd missed so much since last year, "when we first met, I thought you were just the worst." She bit her tongue, but privately she hated being reminded of how arrogant she was when they were both much younger. "If someone had told me that by now I'd- that we'd be such good friends, I probably would have thought it was the weirdest idea in the whole town."

She laughed a little, and drew her sleeve across her face. She couldn't help but wonder what Dipper had been going to say before deciding on them being 'good friends,' but figured that it wasn't the best time to broach the subject. "Yeah, you're welcome. Just...try to tone down the doom and gloom, ok? You're here." Brown eyes locked onto blue, and on a sudden impulse, she took one of his hands in hers. "You're safe here." She said quietly, as she blushed, her eyes dropping to where their hands were touching, unable to focus on his face. As her gaze traveled over his arms, though, she noticed something around his bicep, underneath his shirt sleeve. A layer of pale white cloth, roughly textured. She could only see a fragment of what she realized immediately was a much larger piece, but just from that small bit she could tell what it was, and her insides churned with the knowledge.

Noticing where she was looking, he half-smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, uh, I coughed so hard recently I apparently bruised my ribs. It's still sore, but...not that big a deal. Really." He shrugged, and tried to play it off as if it didn't bother him, that his body was literally tearing itself apart. "It doesn't hurt that much anymore," he lied.

"Okay," she'd said quietly. They'd sat in silence, his hand in hers, for a few minutes more, before Melody and Mabel returned and they'd all tried to spend an evening together like nothing was wrong.

* * *

 

And so, hours later, in the dead of night, Pacifica picked a small glass up from her floor where she sat cross-legged and swallowed the last finger of alcohol in it. On her vanity, a scented candle melted merrily and spread a pleasant vanilla scent through the room, the better to hide the odor of a smoldering clump of sage sitting in a plate next to it. She strained her eyes to read the text on the yellowed pages of the journal she'd deftly borrowed from Dipper's things, hoping he would be too tired to notice it was missing that night. Focusing on the text before her, she cleared her throat, her heart fluttering with fear over what she was about to do. "Triangulum, entangulum," she began.

She wasn't certain it would even do anything. And if it did, would the creature that had nearly destroyed the town and maybe the world be willing to bargain with her?

"Veneforis dominus ventium."  


More importantly, if he was, what would his price be?

"Veneforis venetisarium."

The words seemed to echo several times in the confines of her room, as the candle flickered in a nonexistent wind. A harsh buzzing noise grew in her right ear, like a fly was near, but as she turned to face it, the sound changed position, now on her left. As she tried to follow it, it kept getting louder, and as it started to get physically painful, grinding against her skull like a jackhammer, she closed her eyes, and held her hands over her ears as hard as she could. All of a sudden, the noise stopped, and she heard, with perfect clarity, the lilting and condescending tone that every resident of Gravity Falls remembered no matter how much they wanted to forget.

"Well, well, well!" She opened her eyes and looked around. She couldn't see him, in fact, nothing in her room looked at all out of place. Nevertheless, he was there. "It's been few minutes, hasn't it, Llama? I always had a feeling about you. I had you pegged right away, you just can't resist the call to fame and fortune, right? Well, you came to the right guy, Llama. It's all within the domain of dreams, and I'm _all about_ helping people realize their dreams." The voice seemed to come from every corner of the room at once, and after realizing that he wasn't letting himself be seen (or perhaps he simply couldn't be, anymore), she cast her eyes down at the floor as she summoned up the courage to speak.

"Cipher," she started, trying to will herself to sound like she knew what she was doing and wasn't feeling the effects of the high-proof alcohol that was coursing through her system. "I need something, but not for me. And before you get started, I'm not letting you into anyone's mind, or bringing you back from wherever you are. I'm not asking for-"

"A miracle?" he finished playfully. "No, no, Llama, you don't have to say it. You just want a little push in the right direction, right? The proud and noble Northwest scion can handle the real work on her own, is that it?" He laughed then, just a restrained sort of giggle, but it sent an icy knife through her chest at the sound of it. "So what's eating you, Llama, need some investment tips? I remember gold being pretty solid."

"My friends are sick," she said evasively, not sure if mentioning the twins by name would provoke him into lashing out at her. "I don't know what it is."

"Aww, pathetic mon-keigh science not doing its job? It wasn't too long ago that I remember your kind thinking leeches could cure everything. Have you tried that with Pine Tree and Shooting Star?" She flinched at his derisive nicknames for them. "Because I can see them from here, Llama. And no human medicine man can help them. Ha, unless maybe he's got some leeches!"  


"You know what's wrong with them?" She asked, before kicking herself for playing into his hand by revealing just how little she knew.

"Oh, Llama, who do you think planted the seeds to begin with?" He said, his tone gleeful and mocking. "Did you really think I didn't have a plan for revenge all this time? Did you really think I'd just let them go without a parting gift? No, no, no, this is my gift to them. To all of you, once it spreads far enough. And it _will_ spread, Llama, once they start to turn, the Scourge will-" He stopped abruptly, perhaps realizing that he had let himself say too much. Perhaps it was a moment of genuine weakness in his current condition. Then again, it could just as easily have been a trick to make her think he wasn't as together as he once was. "Well, there's more than one way to set a planet on fire, Llama."  


"What do you mean," she interrupted, "by turn?"

There was silence for a moment before he continued. "No fun in spoiling it for you. But let's just say that Pine Tree won't be in any condition to return your... _obvious_ affections for him anymore. That is why you wanted to talk to me, isn't it? You want me to cure them both?"

"I can do it myself, I just want information!" She said, trying to get to the bargaining. Mabel had told her of how the demon had tricked her into handing over the keys to his plan before. Pacifica didn't know exactly whether she had already damned the world by even contacting Cipher wherever he was, but at the moment, even the ultimate fate of the world seemed irrelevant. "I don't want you to just snap your fingers in exchange for my mind, or whatever, I just want to know where I should be looking!"

"In exchange for?"

She bit her lip and took a chance. "A favor. Something small, nothing that will hurt anyone. All I'm asking for is information." He didn't say anything, and she sensed, perhaps irrationally, that she needed to press him. "This Scourge thing, if you did it, and humans can't figure it out, it's from your world, right? From the Mindscape or whatever? If you tell me how to get there and get out again, I'll get whatever the cure is myself."  


Across the room, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that the full-length mirror on her wall was shimmering. It was starting to glow with a soft white light that couldn't have been a reflection of anything in the room itself. The candle on her vanity sputtered, and nearly died in some breeze she couldn't feel. "Tell you how to get there," repeated the voice slowly, as if considering her words, "and how to get out."

"How to get back here," she clarified. 

There was silence for a moment. She tried to ignore the way the images in her mirror were beginning to distort. Her eyes darted from one end of the room to the other, but they kept being drawn back to the mirror, and each time she couldn't help but notice the reflected image was different somehow. First it showed her room brightly lit, with sunlight streaming in through the windows, and someone (her?) collapsed on the floor next to the bed. Then the room as it was now, upside-down. Then a night not so different from this one, and two figures locked together like puzzle pieces on her bed. A dear memory, and one she resented Cipher knowing about. 

"The Mindscape isn't a store you walk into, blondie," came his mocking tone at last. "I can tell you a way into Pine Tree's mind, and I can even fashion a way out for you, for when you finally give up. And as for what I'd want in return..." She held her breath and closed her eyes. It wasn't often she had ever had to worry about meeting someone's price, and honestly wasn't sure what she would do if he wanted her soul or something like that. Pacifica wasn't religious, really, and never gave much thought to metaphysics outside of late-night discussions with the twins. She wasn't even certain if Cipher cared about things like souls, or if he just loved chaos. She knew that even contacting him was probably a greater danger than either sibling would have condoned for their sake, but to Pacifica, they were the only real friends she'd really had. If saving them meant losing herself, it was a small price to pay. That was just what friends did, or so she'd been led to believe. "In return," he began again, "you'll entertain me."

Her heart skipped a beat. Taken completely aback, all she could come up with as a rejoinder was, "Huh?"

"This little self-sacrificing desire of yours, it's hilarious!" he said, the mirth in his voice evident. "Honestly, watching you flounder around and fail is reward enough for me! You don't have to go out of your way to get me anything, Llama. Just do what you do best: act like everything's under control until things don't go your way, then run home crying and begging for forgiveness from the people you couldn't live up to the expectations of. Because what you're asking? It's beyond Pine Tree and Shooting Star. You're going to be doing brain surgery with a sledgehammer. One wrong move and _BAM!_ there goes your lover's whole childhood! And that's what I'll be watching for from here, Llama. You'll screw up and make everything worse, and then your friends will tell you it's alright, but inside, they'll hate you. And _you'll know it_. It's like candy to me!" He laughed a shrill, cruel laugh that somehow made her teeth hurt, and she shut her eyes as hard as she could and wrapped her hands around her knees, doubling over in pain. After a few seconds, the noise subsided. Her ears ringing, she opened her eyes. Lying on the ground in front of her was a thin cane, one that she could see even in the dim candelight was no ordinary accessory. The shaft wasn't wood, but a blackened metal, both sides honed to what appeared to be deadly edges, one end of it tapering into a fine point. The handle of it had a short metal covering that would allow a person to grasp it and use it as a weapon, and it shone with an unnatural blue light. Next to the cane lay on old-fashioned syringe, an attached vial about half full of some dark fluid.

"Take the cane, Llama, because you'll need it where you're going. The syringe has half the key in it already. Fill the rest with Pine Tree's blood, give it a good shake, and inject it right _here_ -" Suddenly, she felt a sharp prod in her upper right thigh, and clutched it quickly, whirling around to see what was attacking her. She was alone in the room, and the pain dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving only a lingering impression of contact on her sensitive skin. "-and you're on your way, off on your own adventure. I'll be there to show you the gate, and we'll sign and seal the deal then. Unless, of course, you'd rather just comfort your friends in their last days."  


Suddenly, she felt herself alone in the room, the malicious presence gone from her private space. Were it not for the lingering fear she felt and the two strange objects he'd left, she might have chalked the whole thing up to a vivid dream. Pacifica was overcome then with an exhaustion like she had just run a marathon, and after tidying up the candles she had set out and stowing both the syringe and the bladed cane in her voluminous closet, she collapsed onto her bed and fell into an uneasy slumber.


	2. One: The Night Unfurls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing no other options, Pacifica follows Bill's directions and schemes to take her friend's blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those liking a bit of musical accompaniment with their stories, I unsurprisingly but no less strongly recommend the Bloodborne soundtrack itself. The track this chapter is named after, "The Night Unfurls," is one I see posted not infrequently labeled only as the game's main theme. Special thanks this time go out to VaatiVidya, a Lore Hunter, whose video series on the Soulsborne games was instrumental in piecing together what the hell was going on. Some of the details in this story will be taken from the Japanese text of the game, some from the English translation, and some will just be made up.

* * *

 

"There are ideal series of events which run parallel with the real ones. They rarely coincide."

-Baron Georg Philipp Friedrich von Hardenberg, aka Novalis, as quoted by Edgar Allen Poe

* * *

** May You Find Your Worth in the Waking World  
**

Chapter One: The Night Unfurls

The air of an Oregonian spring has a clarity to it. Even as far inland as the seemingly endless fir forests in the mountains west of Salem, the wind still retains hints of the breeze coming in off of the Pacific. Some report that the faintest scent of salt air lingers even further into the forests than that, that even in the woods' tightest embrace one can perceive a trace of a great expanse. In the woods near Gravity Falls, close by a tourist trap that had seen better days, the air had taken on an unseasonal heat.

Pacifica stiffened in the seat of the sagging green lawnchair she had claimed, and tried to keep her voice level, forcing her face into a practiced, but no less difficult, expression of innocent disapproval. "I know you don't mean that."

Across from her sat Mabel in her own chair, her eyes darting to Pacifica's and her brother's in turn, perhaps trying to ascertain what the damage was. After a half moment, she leaned back in her chair and adopted a look of mean-spirited joviality. "But it's _true_." She sipped from her can of soda as casually as she could, reached across to Dipper, and lightly punched him in the arm. "Right, bro-bro? You think so too." Not seeing an immediate show of support as Dipper looked uncomfortably between the two of them, she punched him again. "I heard you saying so to that other nerd Jenny Koh at school that one time! With the thigh-highs and the combat boots?"

His eyes darted nervously towards Pacifica, searching her face for some flicker of recognition of what his sister was referring to. She remained stone-faced, her gaze locked on Mabel. He cleared his throat with some difficulty, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get out of a response no matter how sick he was. "I was...just saying that stuff to impress her," he said weakly before burying his face in the crook of his elbow, trying to hide from the conversation he'd been dragged into.

Mabel laughed, with an audibly sharp quality to it that nearly made Pacifica wince. It was the sort of malicious laughter she recognized as having come from her own lips in her youth, before she'd ever met the twins. "And she _was_ impressed, huh? You were really in your element!" She turned to Pacifica, her eyes boring into her, clear and cold, made all the worse by the presence of her wide smile. "You should hear him! 'We have nothing to lose but our chains!' 'First against the wall!' He's a real firebrand back home, always-"

" _Mabel_ ," he hissed, suddenly forceful, " _stop it_." Sparing him a glance, Pacifica saw that he was glowering at his sister as he leaned forward, his hands clenched around his knees.

Mabel flew to her feet and glared down at him. "Don't tell _me_ what to do! And," she whirled on Pacifica, "so what if I  _do_ mean it? The world  _would_ be better off without people like your parents! They get bonuses while everyone else suffers, they de _serve_ to get what's coming to them! You hate them too!"

She wasn't certain when she'd stood up as well, but she saw then that she was standing eye-to-eye with Mabel, whose brows were furrowing. She tried to keep her voice under control. "Don't _you_ tell _me_ what _I_ think!"

" _Both_ of you!" He forced his way in between them as quickly as he could, his brown eyes pleading with her own blue ones, shimmering with anger one instant and panic the next. "Let's please just _drop_ it. I'm sure Mabel's sorry-"

"Sorry?!" she screeched, and Dipper flinched at the sound of it so close to his ears. "I can't be _lieve_ you're not backing me up! You're such a- ugh!" Moving surprisingly quickly, her palm jerked forwards and landed hard on her brother's left shoulder, sending him forward with a lurch. Pacifica reached her arms out to steady him, but wasn't fast enough, and he fell forwards onto her. Both stayed upright, but the unexpected impact had knocked the wind out of her as her jaw clenched in pain at the force of his skull on her shoulder blade. "Well, whatever!" Mabel shouted as she started to stomp towards the shack, already past the two of them as she kept yelling. "Just keep telling her whatever you think she wants to hear!" She reached the crumbling wooden steps of the front porch and practically leapt up them in a dash for the door. Wrenching it open, she turned back to them in the threshold. "That's all _you're_ good for anyway!" She slammed the screen door as hard as a screen door was liable to be slammed. They could hear her the sounds of her shoes echoing on the floor of the empty storefront for another second or so before they faded as well.

As Dipper straightened up, a hand kept on her shoulder to keep from staggering, he mumbled what sounded like an apology. For a few seconds it was the only sound either made as the wind rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, sending bright emerald fragments dancing in their direction. He didn't meet her eyes as he stood back from her, a hand on his forehead, his gaze pointed at some spot on the ground that likely had less intense of a look than Pacifica did.

She wasn't entirely sure which of the myriad emotions at the moment were most apparent to an onlooker. Anger at Mabel's presumptuousness. Shock that she would lay a violent hand on her brother. Happiness that Dipper had apparently moved on after the two of them had agreed what they had wasn't sustainable. Surprised that both of them harbored beliefs more radical than she'd realized. Confusion at her staunch defense of her parents, knowing as much as she did about them. Hurt that Dipper had never seen fit to mention this Jenna, or whatever her name was. Fear that Cipher hadn't been lying, that both of them were changing irrevocably. Fear that either sibling might at any moment become dangerous to each other, to themselves, to her. Fear that the gifts from the demon stashed in the backseat of her car underneath a frilly blue blanket would prove the only way forward. Fear that the silence may have gone on too long and there was no way to lift one another out of this hole.

"So," she said abruptly, quietly, almost surprising herself. "So," she started again, louder and, she hoped, somewhat brighter. She tried to smirk playfully, and wasn't at all sure she was doing so. "Combat boots, huh?"

He had drawn an arm across his chest, either as if to shield himself or just to have something to grab hold of. He looked up from the ground and fixed the middle of her face with blank confusion. "What?"

"Combat boots," she repeated. "And thigh-highs? Sounds like a fashion disaster. At least tell me they didn't clash."

He had to smile a little in return. "The boots were black. Socks were white and green striped."

She mimed gagging, which made him laugh briefly. The sight of him happy, what she had been hoping to see since she first heard the twins were coming back, should have pleased her. A thought that shouldn't have sickened her but did anyway burst forth and overwhelmed her sense of propriety. "Matching panties?"

"Shut up!" he answered too cheerfully, too quickly, with a playful roll of the eyes too dramatic. It was all the confirmation she needed. Somewhere in the distance, birds called out to one another.

She looked up at the sky, to appear like she was looking for the loud, mournful creatures interrupting their conversation. "Combat boots," she said again, "not exactly lumberjack-chic, but I guess it fits your type."

She hadn't meant it to sound accusatory - and it wasn't, really, she was glad for him, it wasn't like she hadn't been with several people in the many years since they'd first met - but before she knew it he was apologizing in a low voice again. She turned back to him to tell him it was alright, that it wasn't as if she had anything against him sleeping with a girl, but before she could he continued. "Mabel shouldn't have said all that. And she was exaggerating anyway. And, and she's under a lot of stress, she hasn't been herself..." He trailed off, perhaps aware of how pathetic his excuse sounded after the person in question had nearly knocked them both over before thundering off to sulk on her own.

"It's okay," she replied weakly. "You're both going through a lot. Right now. I'm sure she'll be back to her old self once you guys are better."

As if on cue, he buried his face in his arm and coughed hard, a gravelly, barking noise that sounded painful. As he steadied himself, she stepped closer to him and leaned in to whisper. "I got something for you that might help."

He didn't take his mouth away from his sleeve, but half-turned his head towards her to indicate he was listening as he waited to catch his breath.

It would come as a shock to anyone who knew her upbringing, but Pacifica was actually a fairly inept liar. She was far better at dissemblance than outright fabrication. "A friend introduced me to someone. Not exactly a doctor, but...someone who can get people medicine. He said it might help with the symptoms." She cast a worried glance at his midsection, where she knew bandages lay in wait under his clothes, holding him together like a second skin. "With the pain, at least."

"Paz, are you-" he looked around at the empty clearing in front of the shack in a panic before pitching his voice low, "-are you saying you've got _heroin_?!"

"No!" she cried loudly. _I got some kind of mysterious liquid from a demon that hates you and I'm supposed to mix it with your blood and shoot up with it myself._

" _Morphine_?" he guessed again.

For perhaps the fiftieth time since she had entreated Cipher, she wondered if there was some trick to the creature's words, some tell that she was missing that revealed the truth. There was no way to be certain that whatever it had told her to do wouldn't infect her with the same illness, just kill her outright, or something far worse. On the drive to the shack, she had tossed around in her head the idea of just forgetting the whole plan. But the seemingly inevitable end result always followed in mere seconds: _They'll die if I don't help them. And this is the only thing I can do_. "I won't tell if you won't," she replied in a conciliatory tone.

Dipper exhaled sharply, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and respect. She wondered if he really bought the idea that she knew drug dealers, but then again, given the debaucheries the high-society people her family hung around engaged in, it probably didn't seem all that far-fetched. "I mean," she continued, sensing that he just needed another little push to agree, "it's a low dose, just enough to help with breathing easier. Yesterday, you seemed like you were hurting so much, I just thought I had to help you, somehow..." Inadvertently, she felt her eyes start to tear up, and she turned away to brush off the moisture. Dipper saw it, of course, and she hated herself for what felt like deception on her part, even if she hadn't technically lied to him.

"Okay," he said finally, and as he smiled sheepishly at her, she remembered a somewhat similar exchange, around six years prior, which ended with them both doing things they weren't supposed to be doing. Much as he had back then, he broke into a lopsided grin, blushed, and muttered, "This is crazy."

A gust of wind broke through a line of trees nearby and lifted the ends of her hair as it passed them. She unconsciously swatted her bangs away from her eyes. "Yeah, well, it's a crazy world. You're the one who taught me that."

* * *

In a clearing not far outside of town, Pacifica brought her car to a halt. The drive there had seemed pleasant for Dipper, who had a nervous energy about him that she would have been happy to see were her heart not pounding. Every block she drove, she had considered breaking down and telling him what she was planning, in the hopes that he would have some knowledge about what Cipher had been talking about. But she knew, ultimately, that if he knew what she had gone to for help about his condition, he'd never agree to it in a million years, would tell her off for even thinking of contacting it, would probably say he'd rather die than put his life in the demon's hands. And that was a risk Pacifica wasn't going to take.

"...and so Mabel starts trying to flirt with him, in the absolute worst Irish accent you've ever heard," Dipper said, recounting the tales of a pub crawl from their recent vacation. "Like, Irish by way of Moscow, and the guy's drunk already, and he starts to look dizzy just trying to figure out what she's talking about..." She's half-listening, just enough to laugh at the appropriate parts. Given how they've been interacting over the past couple of days, it's hard to believe that the carefree stories of the twins just hanging out together are only around a couple of months old.

The car glides to a stop on the side of a dirt road near a deserted campground. It's a popular hangout spot for local teens, but today the place is empty, save for about three crows perched on a picnic table, eyeing the car warily, ready to take wing at the first sign of trouble. Dipper looks around through the windshield. "You sure this is okay?"

"There's no one around, and I'll take you home right after so you can relax, or you can stay here for a bit if you want," she says, and bites her lip nervously before hastily adding, "with me."

"Yeah," he agrees, and she's not sure what exactly he's agreeing to. "Do you, uh, know how to do this? Because I-"

She puts on her bravest face and looks haughtily at him. "Did you forget that while you've been majoring in pataphysics I've gotten a nursing license?"

"It's a double major in physics and philosophy," he replied automatically with a wry look, "and you're not licensed."

"I've taken enough credits that I _could_ sit for the test if I wanted to," she said cattily as she opened the driver side door. She opened the door to the backseat and lifted the cloth on it. The syringe and cane gleamed in the noonday sun filtering through the thick clouds overhead. She reached down and grabbed the syringe, feeling the surprising weight of its brass parts, hoping Dipper wouldn't notice the decidedly ornate and non-utilitarian design, as well as a package of bandages she'd taken from her medicine cabinet. She looked over to him in the front seat, where he had angled his head to watch her. "And you're a nerd," she said, grinning and trying not to let on how tense she felt.

He laughed for a second before he had to double over, his body wracked with a violent spasm. She rushed back to the front seat as he folded in on himself, clutching his legs to prevent himself from thrashing as his back heaved. He had caught the side of his face on the dashboard as he pitched forward, and a deep purple bruise was already forming near his temple. She wanted to grab hold of him, keep him in place and tell him everything was going to be alright. Within a few seconds, though, he began to quiet, and he slowly sat up, sinking back into his seat as he stared forlornly at the park in front of them. A bit of blood stained his lower lip, and the side of his face was damp with tears. "I hate this," he whispered hoarsely, his voice a scratchy croak. He shut his eyes. "I just wish I could hurry up, just get it over with and-"

" _Mason_!" she snapped forcefully, so much so that his eyes popped open as he faced her. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd called him by his real name over their long friendship. "Just turn around and try to relax, okay?"

He sighed, but shifted in his seat so that his back was facing her. "Thanks for doing this for me, Paz. For everything, really. It really means a lot to me, to both of us, that we can talk to you-"

"You have other friends," she interrupted as she lifted the hem of his shirt and started to sift through the layered bandages to find his bare skin. "Now don't talk, just relax. This will only take a second." Morphine was meant to be administered in the lower back. She wasn't sure whether or not Dipper knew that, but it was as good a place as any. Taking the syringe in hand, she put her fingers through the loops on the plunger and pressed the point of the needle against his skin, but not yet breaking it. She felt him shudder slightly as the cold metal touched him. "Ready?" she asked.

"Yeah," he replied quietly. "I'm a little nervous."

"Yeah," she said as she applied pressure, and the head of the needle pierced his skin, prompting him to breathe in sharply. _Me too_. "Don't worry, it'll be fine." Less than half an inch of the needlessly long slender shaft had been buried in his flesh, but she knew from plenty of blood drives how the mild pinch of a needle was felt much more acutely when you couldn't see the object penetrating you. She slowly pulled back on the plunger, watching as the vial filled with the dull red of blood, somehow distinct from the crimson fluid which was already in the container. It took very little time to fill the thing completely, and she delicately withdrew the needle and stuck an antibacterial bandage over the small pinprick on Dipper's back.

"Huh," he said quizzically as he lowered his shirt and faced forward again, wincing as his back came into contact with the seat back. "I don't really feel anything yet. I figured it'd be really obvious."

"Give it a second," she mumbled as she hastily grabbed the full syringe and made her way to the back seat again.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"In the glove compartment," she said as she hiked up her skirt on her right side, enough that she could clearly see her upper thigh, where she had felt Cipher's touch the night before, "there's a note."

As she lined up the point of the needle on her own body, she heard him open the compartment and unfold the piece of notebook paper within. It took only moments of perusal for him to practically leap from his seat and start trying to climb into the back. By that point, though, she had already broken the skin, and depressed the plunger as the mixture of blood and something else began to pour into her. She could feel it, like a burning sensation inside of her, spreading quickly like a swarm of insects skittering through her. She could see his panicked and terrified expression at what she was doing, could see that he was yelling something, but heard nothing.

"If this kills me," she said, though she couldn't hear herself saying it, "then it'll look like I did it myself." The fire inside of her had reached her abdomen, and was creeping up towards her chest as sweat began to pour down her face. She tried to raise a hand to touch his cheek, but faltered as her limbs began to feel leaden. He caught her wrist and shouted something, probably her name, his eyes full of horror as he began to surmise what she had done. "Don't be afraid," she tried to tell him as darkness encroached on the edges of her vision. Her eyes fluttered as the burning reached her throat, and then the backs of her eyes. "Don't-" Shadows overtook all that once saw, and she was uncertain whether she had closed her eyes or was simply dying.

The burning was gone, and in its place a feeling like she had turned to stone. The idea of moving even a fraction of an inch seemed in that moment a herculean effort, and with no understanding of anything around her to figure out where she was, the idea of moving at all seemed meaningless. Was she floating? Was she sinking? What position was her body even in? She wondered, for a time, if this was death, or perhaps more ominously, an afterlife. She had once heard Hell described as an infinite separation from both the material and the divine. Was this what trusting Cipher had led her into?

Suddenly, above (beneath? before?) her she perceived.

-    ~~_**[**_~~ _ **^ ~~# は~~/;    **_-

She didn't see. She didn't hear. She thought immediately of a picture, a farrago of lines and shapes, and understood instinctively that though this thought had appeared in her mind, she hadn't been the one to think it. The violation made her want to scream in disgust and fear, and the image came again, somehow more (clear? loud? red?) than before.

 _Please_ , she thought, because she had no idea if spoken words truly meant anything, much less how to make them, _I just want to help my friends. They need me. Please!_

- _ **n**_

_**e** _

_**e** _

_**d**_ -

Affirmation? Comprehension? Mimicry? It was impossible to tell, as all at once Pacifica became aware of her body again. A searing sensation erupted not from the crown of her skull, but from within, and she twisted herself in half trying to tear her head away from the rest of her, her hands clawing at either nothingness or her own skin, blood sent flying in elegant sprays around her with every mad gyration, the only color standing out at all amidst a sea of unending, true black. The novel feeling in her brain coalesced into a shape.

    

Pain exploded along her back, and she latched onto that. It was a familiar thing, pain, this the dull ache of a bad sleep on a hard surface, hips, spine, neck, and back of the skull alight with persistent agony, but one she knew. She had slept once on the floor of a cabin when Corduroy had invited the Pines twins on a trip to Washington with her. She and Dipper had been dating at the time, and he had successfully guilted the lumberjack girl into inviting her along as well. Despite her insistence that she couldn't possibly sleep on the _floor_ of all places, she had drawn the short straw, and had to share a lumpy sleeping bag with Dipper. The plank floors had creaked when she shifted to try and get into a more comfortable position, and there wasn't one. She had contemplated just climbing on top of Dipper and using him as a mattress, but the odds of either of them being able to sleep in such a position were low. Through the night she felt that every bone in her body was being pressed against the wood by some massive stone slab, and in the morning as she rose, everything aching, she had vowed never to sleep on anything that wasn't stuffed with down ever again.

The feeling of her body on a wooden surface made her realize that she must have been lying on her back. She felt air on her face. She realized her eyes were closed, and opened them. Above her were the sturdy wooden beams of a ceiling, illuminated softly from below. There was a weight on her chest, and she moved her hand to grab hold of it. A metal object. Sitting up slowly, the pain in her bones somehow beginning to slip away, she saw that she had grasped the head of the cane Cipher had given her, its long bladed shaft gleaming in the light of an old-fashioned oil lamp resting on a small table nearby. She was in a room lined with bookcases, sitting on a long table, with what looked like an IV stand at the far end. The room was dim, but her eyes adjusted quickly. The dust in the place threatened to clog her sinuses as she ran her eyes along the shelves of books, their titles printed too small to make out. She stood, hardly daring to believe it, but knowing that Cipher had at least been telling the truth: she was somewhere else, for certain. And if that had been true, then perhaps she could find a cure for Dipper and Mabel here. She walked gingerly over to the table with the lamp, her joints cracking painlessly, as if she had been immobile for ages. On the same table, poised next to the lamp, was a piece of lined paper, torn from a composition notebook. It could have come from the same book she had torn the page of her ersatz suicide note from, but not the bound tomes that surrounded her. Scrawled on the page in what was unmistakably her own handwriting was a single sentence written in the black ink of a fountain pen:

" _Seek Paleblood to end the Hunt"_

"Paleblood," she said aloud, her voice hoarse. She tightened her grip on the cane, trying to feel assurance from its weight. It wasn't much of a weapon, and a single sentence wasn't much to begin a search with. Still, it was a start. All she needed was a chance.


End file.
